


The Gods Weep When The Wolf Finds His Red

by Passerby



Category: Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Fairytale remake, M/M, Red Riding Hood Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Passerby/pseuds/Passerby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A oneshot of why, where and what of one little Red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gods Weep When The Wolf Finds His Red

**Author's Note:**

> So, what you could not know until today, I'm actually a hardcore sucker for the story of Red Riding Hood. Dunno why exactly I dig this particular story so much but it's full of potential, hidden meanings, yet it can be drawn with efficient simplicity, take your pick. Hence, it was only a matter of time until I was gonna step into something urging me to dig deeper into it again, presenting my own thoughts and ideas. Give me a good picture and I'll read it like a thirsty man drinking water.  
> Inspired by a picture I found while ruffling through the internet. I do NOT own any rights to the picture, it belongs to its respective author. Unfortunately I have no idea who s/he is, so I couldn't ask if they'd agree for this pict to be here, but I hope the author doesn't mind.  
> Hope you'll like it. :) Love ya all.

..

“Look, a young one. Finally, something to quell our hunger. Should we go get it, brother?" asked a white she-wolf, tongue slipping out of her mouth to lick her snout. If the hooded creature started to run, she´d sniff it out in no time.

Silver eyes studied the dejected body moving through the heavy sleet that the sky gods, perched high above set upon them all. Shoulders drooped, head lowered. Both hidden underneath a simple red hood.

This one wouldn't run. He did not have to go and catch the loner himself at all **.** Yet, a strange power compelled him to.

“Stay. Watch over the others," he ordered her. His second in command hummed softly in acknowledgement of the order though her eyes were full of confusion as she watched her sibling move forward.

Her brother´s growl carried on the leaves of the woods, surrounding each and every living being around. The little prey stopped in its movement, yet no fear could not be smelt in the air. It was easy to guess the sounds came from nearby. Still, there was no attempt to run away.

The alpha stalked forward, at first circling the two-legged being. Humans, as they called themselves. Little things they were, having even smaller young ones. This one might be something in between both the versions.

Finishing the second circle, inching closer and closer with each step, there was still no reaction to his presence. He finally stopped right in front of the prey. He had to duck his head quite a bit to be even able to see its face, still cast down. Not in fear, though, not even now.

“You´re not afraid," he stated in a growly voice after watching the little one stand there patiently throughout getting drenched even more. The strange fur called a hood apparently not as good a cover as the body hidden underneath it starting to shiver slightly, cold taking first merciless bites of its victim. Still, the following words were not marked by a single thought about it.

“Nothing to lose," was the only reply instead, quiet and simple.

“What of your flesh?" The wolf inquired, truly interested in knowing the answer. He never met any hunted animal which was not afraid of death.

“Noone to miss it." The little one sounded as they looked – without a soul, blank, uncomplaining.

“Not even you?" Losing his snarl, the leader now caught on the riddle this visitor presented.

“It has no use to me."

What a strange thing to say. No matter, the wolf very well noticed the carried basket the very first time he saw their prey from a long distance away. Therefore, he pointed it out.

“If you die now, you won't be able to deliver what you´re carrying, though."

“It does not matter. The person´s already dead."

“Why are you carrying it then? And why now, when the God´s are mourning and crying their cold tears?" A keen sense of smell revealed there was food hidden in the basket to the pack leader. No dead ones needed nourishments.

“My parents sent me to. They have no idea I know my grandmother died, too. They knew that I could never find my way back home, out of the woods without her help."

“Yet, you still went." As an alpha, he could not understand anyone who would not want to keep their pack together.

The little one just shrugged its shoulders. “They don´t want me. No one does."

The simple answer held so many in itself. The wolf sniffed the air, still smelling nothing. Void. The child was empty. Except… There was an echo of something, tempting him to ask.

“What do they call you?" There was silence for a while before he got his answer.

“Rakefire," was the first word and there was a feeling to it when it was voiced. Not a good one, though. “Etienne," another one fell out of small lips, softer, kinder, as a nice memory remembered. But then it was followed by final, harsh sounding “Dalcop." That sucked all the hints of emotions and life out of the small cub, making the next words sound bare again when he said, “Yet I´m neither anymore."

He looked closely at the - no, not prey anymore. He repeated the strange words in his head again. Rakefire. Etienne. Dalcop. All sounded like something accepted. Did not have to be liked, but a part of the creature standing in front of him nonetheless.

Still a strange one.

Two legged.

Empty, yet not really.

There was the voice again, though - the same one that urged him to approach the hooded human instead of letting his pack members do so in his stead. It was talking to him, reaching out to him while the little one´s mouth was calmly telling the wolf to kill his prey. There was none, though. Not anymore. Instead, he was faced with something...someone that even the alpha could not grasp. He wanted to be able to, though.

“Be my Red."

The hooded head finally moved up, so they were looking into each other's eyes for the first time, snout to face.

The boy smiled sweetly.

 

**\- Epilogue -**

 

His sister told the story of their alpha and hooded Red to her children. The leader himself had never sired any pups, so only she and some of the others’ stories kept the pack remembering, never forgetting. The story of the fated meeting was told through wolves´ generations, to be getting back to humans after hundreds of years.

They called him Hooded Red – in remembrance of his look from the day the Alpha met him. The wolf himself called him simply, Red.

His Red.

 

 

 

* * *

**A/N:** All info needed about definitions of “dalcop” and “rakefire” can be found [here](http://mentalfloss.com/article/61819/42-old-english-insults).

Also, very special thanks to kind and patient **[gingerninja93blog](http://gingerninja93blog.wordpress.com)** , who I'll be eternally grateful to for willingly proofreading the story. You're awesome. :) **  
**

Thank you everyone for all the kudos you gave to this story, each of those made me smile whenever I got email about it.

**Author's Note:**

> In the end the feeling from the story is slightly different than I initially wanted (aka evaporated), but guess that´s what I get when i string my barely half a page idea into two whole A4, lol. At least the setting of my Red Riding Hood story is quite clear.  
> Wolves don´t have to be necessarily the bad guys, right? Though, I do love bad guys. ;D


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